Pride London's Festival Fortnight is in full swing, and some people may question what it means to be proud, and why this festival includes cultural events. I'm not proud of my sexuality: it's just a fact. But I think a festival of visibility for the LGBT community has to be a good thing – we're a fragmented group at the best of times. I'm sure even the phrase LGBT being written by a gay man who includes himself under the LGBT and queer umbrella will ruffle some feathers. And that's fine. In fact, it reinforces to me exactly why we need events such as Pride: we can't even label, discuss or celebrate as a community without putting someone's nose out of joint.

Personally, I like to be proud every day: to hold my partner's hand in public, be open about my sexuality and not be scared to be seen for who I am; I don't need a festival to do those things.

Theatrically, I'm proud when my work communicates a strong message, moves an audience and makes them question the world in which they live. My more successful works have been, for simplicity's sake, what I'll call queer theatre – not because I decided to cash in on the "pink pound" or ride the funding pony, but because I feel I had something to say about what it means to be queer – something I was not hearing elsewhere.

Bella Todd's recent article discussing the lack of gay theatre in Brighton received a lot of outspoken comments. In essence: why do we need a gay theatre? This is a theatre blogpost and I'm struggling to not get sucked into queer/LGBT/gay semantics and politics. But this is a good thing. It reminds me that queer theatre is about being political. It's about documenting a queer history: we have very little, and it's rarely passed on.

I'm sure a few cynics are rolling their eyes as they read an article by a gay boy whingeing on about rights, visibility and equality. What more could we possibly want? But look around. Theresa May, our home secretary and minister for equality and women, previously opposed the abolition of Section 28, opposed the lowering of the age of consent in homosexual relationships to 16, voted against gay adoption rights and was against the human fertilisation and embryology bill, which would give lesbian couples the ability to receive fertility treatment. She also failed to attend the vote on the Gender Recognition Act, which allows transsexuals to change their legal gender. Is this the foremost person working for equality in Britain? I'll leave it with you.

So yes, I will say it: we do need queer theatre. (We also need deaf theatre, black theatre or any theatre that says something important, that says "I am what I am" or "Yes we can".) It's not about converting people to being gay, rallying the troops or glorifying a way of life. It's about exploring and expressing stories to an audience – some people will see things from a new point of view, some will be relieved that someone else can see theirs, and others will leave at the interval. Personally, I wish my work was theatre-first, and that queer came further down the list (hopefully after a few superlatives). I also try to make the subject engaging to everyone, so that a straight audience can see the overriding theme of humanity, rather than it being a show for "someone else".

From my experience, Average Joe dancing at G-A-Y on a Saturday night probably won't turn to the Guardian's politics pages to keep up to date on issues. He might not read this blog, unless it's through a link posted on his Facebook page. But he might come to see an entertaining show with a couple of songs, camp comedy and a few well-placed political points. And if he does, and he listens, maybe he'll learn something of his queer history, or perhaps reassess how the situation could improve. Then I'll be happy – and maybe even proud.